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luveline · 1 month ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

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It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair.

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please.

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type.

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?”

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers.

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?”

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mm-hm.”

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?”

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.”

“So you’re in need of company?”

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?”

“What are you drinking?”

“Cherry spritzer.”

“Can I buy you another one?”

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much.

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.”

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference.

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started.

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast.

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek.

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest.

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold.

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side.

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely.

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over.

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly.

“Just this.”

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.”

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything.

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows.

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear.

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone.

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back.

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee.

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are.

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?”

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?”

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.”

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.”

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder.

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed.

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone.

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can.

“Nowhere.”

“So where have you been?”

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose.

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek.

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders.

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs.

“You okay?” a voice asks.

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face.

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.”

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes.

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently.

“I’ll leave soon.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.”

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving.

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?”

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?”

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?”

“Just while I was waiting for you.”

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror.

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.”

“Like, statistics?”

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly.

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“I’m good at math, yeah.”

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?”

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss.

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away.

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.”

“Me too.”

“And you’re okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing hurts?” he asks.

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.”

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb.

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day.

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.”

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes.

For a pause, you just sit.

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good.

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask.

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.”

”Really?”

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.”

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again.

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?”

“We might have to stand very close.”

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to.

—

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride.

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked.

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other.

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way.

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details.

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles.

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him.

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?”

“You wanna share?”

“Yes!”

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly.

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.”

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand.

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face.

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?”

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.”

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling.

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says.

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?”

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.”

“You know what shampoo I use?”

“I deduced it.”

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?”

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.”

“You distract me, too.”

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.”

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend.

“I like you too,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Not just…”

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing.

“Should we go out, then?”

“We do.”

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.”

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight.

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.”

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.”

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“And if I don’t?” he asks.

“Then we get married in Vegas.”

“You could meet my mom.”

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks.

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.”

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin.

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough.

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile.

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks.

“I can’t remember.”

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.”

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted.

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.”

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all.

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thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3

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gayhomestuck · 1 year ago

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i was doing a silly drawing challenge and i ended up with. troll miku

#homestuck #hatsune miku #i'm sorry she's green #i would have made her a tealblood but apparently she's a virgo so.#also her hair things are purple because one i feel like it would be weird for a jadeblood to wear fuschia accessories for literally no reas #two kagamine rin is a capricorn and i think they're yuri ?#i don't know the miku lore sorry #also idk if it's like. obvious?? but the 01 thing is supposed to be her sign #i also made her horns look like 01 which i think is very cool and smart of me #wow that's a lot of tags #okay shutting up now

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gghostwriter · 2 months ago

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Three's a Sideshow

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences Trope:Angst w.c: 4.2k a/n: this is one of the many many requests of @lavonee (her exact request was: maybe spencer misses an important date/anniversary because of jj and reader is finally fed up being second place to her) trying my best to address all of them. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The hazy dim light of each candle on the white linen covered table gave the restaurant an orange hue. Various aromas of meat, wine, and complimentary cheese wafted through the enclosed space. Sensual tones of the saxophone lightly played on the speakers perfectly weave through each muted conversations between loved ones—couples and families. The high-end restaurant basked in good food and great company.

Everything was perfect.

Every costumer joyous and warm from the delicious wine.

All except for one, alone by the corner booth, phone pressed to your ear and eyes scanning for the tall, lithe form of the date for the night.

Beep. Beep. Be—

You grimaced at the busy line tone that answered you, again. Hands gripping the draped linen, trying your best not to tap your newly manicured fingers on the table—trying to blend into the background, unsuccessfully.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. All dressed up with no partner or food on the table, just a glass of once chilled wine—condensation all around it like tears of abandonment and longing.

The same waitress who escorted you to the table—15 minutes ago, approached with a perfectly rehearsed smile.

“Ma’am, are we ready to order?”

You sighed. “Actually, my boyfriend isn’t here yet—”

She bit her lip, nodding, before quickly averting her eyes to the queued up line outside the premise.

Right. It was a Friday night and every adult in the vicinity wanted a night out to unwind and start their weekend on the right foot.

You tightly smiled, the embarrassment of tonight painting your cheeks a deep maroon, unnoticed through the flickering of the orange candlelight. “—you know what, I think I’d just have a slice of your chocolate cake to go. Yeah, I’m sorry about holding up the table.”

The waitress nodded, understanding washing on her face. “That’s alright. I’ll have your order packed and ready to go.”

“Thanks,” you murmured as you watched her leave.

Tonight was suppose to be special.

You dressed up in the same white with purple printed flower midi length dress, styled your hair effortlessly, and spritzed on your favorite perfume that smelled like a luscious garden after a rainy night.

Everything was just like how it was two weeks ago—including your boyfriend of three years, Spencer Reid, not showing up for the date.

You didn’t even know why you bothered. Why his promise of being here tonight made you feel giddy and trusting. Why his commitment on having do-over for the actual anniversary dinner that he missed two weeks ago made you think it was going to end differently and why you gave him another chance—

Another chance to let you down.

Another crack in your belief that you were important.

Another heartache to soothe.

Another let down.

When you first entered the relationship, you understood the gravity of his work. How his career will always come first and how unpredictable it all may be.

That part—accepting those facts, were easy. You were always one to be tolerant and understanding ever since childhood, labeled as the easy kid—the independent, the self-sufficient. Mixed in with your highly demanding career as a doctor, you got it—the patience and consideration of a saint.

A martyr, your good friend once bluntly said.

But what good was being a martyr when the person you’re killing yourself for didn’t notice?

It didn’t matter at first. Missed messages, missed calls, missed dates were just a work of rotten timing from both ends. Sometimes it was you having to run to the hospital for an emergency surgery and sometimes it was him having to catch a plane to a latest serial killer case.

The tandem of both independent and busy people in the relationship worked, love blossomed regardless.

What made it different was, there was three of you in the relationship.

The third party being an intense platonic, as he once defended, connection with Her.

You felt it for the first time during a get together with his found family. Your set of eyes trained to read in between the lines for the truth patients unwittingly hide from their doctor. It was a skill that you honed and never hated, up until that moment.

The stolen glances when the other wasn’t looking.

The emotion veiled between the eyes.

The unsaid words that seemed to spill from the silence.

Never mind that there were two presences in the vicinity that could have their life altered in any minute from the secrets long hidden in vaults. It was as if you and her husband were considered ornaments, pieces of a possible aftermath not worth saving.

You knew of their past—Spencer admitting to having a crush on her during his early days with the team, asking her out on a baseball game date, and her recent admission during a case.

Everything was water under the bridge, your boyfriend assured you. But the thing was, water had a way of overflowing from confinement, turning deadly, and ravaging what once was an idyllic garden that bloomed from your affection.

Now as you pay for the tab and collect your things, you felt the tides that destroyed the solace inside of you well up to your eyes—wanting the release you’re fighting to keep at bay.

A fight you’re bound to lose.

You whispered a thank you to the waitress, soft and quiet that you were unsure if she even heard it but that was the best you could do, the sobs closing your vocal chords and threatening to escape, making you a spectacle—leaving the restaurant alone, with a boxed cake on hand.

What a sad sight.

You fumbled with the phone again, hands shaking as you insert the key on the ignition.

Beep. Beep. Be—

Nothing.

What even was the point of all of this, you wondered. All this emotion, love, that was once sweet and heavenly now all felt rotten, puss oozing from its pores and flies exalting for a feast.

Slowly backing your black 4-door sedan out of the parking lot, you pondered if this was the end—did you have any more left to give? Or was this just a bump on the road for the your future selves to learn and heartily laugh about?

———

The rattling of your keys as you dropped it on the ceramic plate across the main door disrupted the silent, empty apartment.

A small smile graced your face as you remembered spontaneously booking a ceramic wheel class with Spencer in tow. His initial worries about getting under the nails dirty and the bacteria that could be collected from any stranger that used the items before the both of you swept away with your giggles and assurances to double up on vitamins.

There was a wide grin on his face then, accepting defeat from the sight of your enthusiasm and glee.

It was one of your greatest memory with Spencer and when the glazed pottery came from the mail—yours, a wonky blue green plate and his, an uneven moss green bowl, you had him promise to take you again.

A promise that never came to fruition.

You sighed, eyes tracking the rented space you never quite moved in to. The walls painted this dark green color, reflecting the somber mood you frequently found yourself in and the shelves filled to the brim with books you never dream of reading.

in hindsight, maybe your subconscious was telling you something. Why you never agreed to Spencer’s casual asking of you to live with him. Why you were adamant of keeping your own apartment regardless of the nights you spent outside of it.

This place became your pseudo-home, comfortable but never quite permanent.

The distant murmur of a car being parked on the street had you clambering up from your defeated, slouched position on the leather couch. In your gut, you knew who it was.

You spotted them exiting the SUV.

The two figures that make the relationship three—a sideshow for everyone to see.

Spencer and JJ.

They talked for a bit, probably saying pleasantries of goodbyes, before she leaned in for a hug. One that he reciprocated, patting her back as he went.

They looked like a couple and if you were in your right state of mind, you’d chalk the exchange up to nothing but you weren’t—you were wounded and unsure of your standing ever since you exited the restaurant.

Were you his first still?

Or were you just second place?

They were questions you never wanted no, needed, to be addressed but it seemed like tonight was the night of reckoning.

As you watched Spencer enter the apartment, the smile on his face from spotting you slowly become a furrow between his brows, you fidgeted—pulling the coat tighter to your body, the one you never hung on the back of the door—ready to bolt.

“Love, I’m so sorry I missed our reservation—”

He went in for a kiss on your glossy lips.

A simple act that you didn’t have the energy to accept, you turned your head to the side. His lips catching your cheek instead.

“It’s fine,” you sardonically replied. “It wasn’t like I was waiting for you for half an hour to show up. It’s fine, Spencer.”

His brow twitched.

“It sounds like it’s not fine. Why don’t you tell me what you really feel? We promised to openly communicate, didn’t we?”

You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I said it’s fine, Spencer. Why don’t you give it a rest?”

“You look beautiful,” his calloused fingers gently caressing your hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t show. It’s just that JJ and the tea—”

Your last thread of reason snapped clean from hearing her name.

“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? Me coming after her?”

“Love.”

“Don’t touch me—don’t call me that,” you pushed his hands away, tucking the escaped tendrils behind your ears.

His own, raking the wavy brown hair you loved, in frustration. You could tell, with how his hands opened and closed, that he was itching to touch you, comfort you.

“Her? You mean, JJ? She’s a friend. Just a friend.”

“And if this friend wasn’t married with kids, would you still be here with me now?”

Silence.

There, you said it.

“What—yes, yes of course. Why would you ask that? Why would you doubt it? Doubt me?”

Your gut twisted inside of you. It was inconceivable for someone like Spencer to lie, wasn’t it? He was a good guy, one of the best. But all the hidden resentment in your heart—a pile you weren’t even aware of, no longer wanted to be silenced. It no longer wanted to be pushed to the side for optimism and denial.

“I don’t know, Spencer. Maybe it’s the way you look at her—” voice raising up an octave. You’ve lost control, verbally dumping out everything. “Do you think I don’t see it? You look at her with this, this nostalgia and—and this emotion that I can’t compare to—never seen it when you look at me! Or maybe, maybe it’s because you drop everything for her? Including me?”

“Are you talking about when Henry got sick?” his hands finding a home on his hips. “I thought you understood—you of all, should have.”

Your laughter turned into a sob. “I do—I did, until you dropped me of unceremoniously back here, in this apartment, just so you could rush out to her home. Like I was some kind of secret, you didn’t want to bring around her. Like I was some sort of disease, you didn’t want her catching. Didn’t you think I would be of great help? A licensed medical doctor?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight—I thought you, you shouldn’t be exposed to the type of flu Henry contracted. You could have gotten sick too and could have passed it on to your other patients.”

“It’s my job to take care of the sick, don’t you think I take measures for my own health? Spencer, please, for once just be honest with me.”

He tilted his head. “Honest about what?”

“If it’s her you really want and if I’m just a passable substitute to settle down with.”

You could see his eyes blazing with such—disgust? Anger? You didn’t know what emotion it was before it was snuffed out, leaving his expression blank and almost sad. It was a look you were familiar with, his profiler look.

“I don’t need you profiling me and my insecurities, Spencer. I just want the truth. The God-honest truth.”

“I love you. I can’t imagine a life without you—I won’t imagine it. Isn’t that enough?”

Your hands drop to your side.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

The distance created by the silence between you and Spencer was vast. You’ve never felt quite alone and isolated in the relationship until this moment. Was this it, then? The end to your once dreamed of happy ever after?

“I’m sorry I missed the dinner. Why don’t you let me make it up to you? We can book the same restaurant for next week and—”

“You can’t just make up for a make up anniversary dinner, that’s not how it works in real life, Spencer. And besides, I don’t want to see the same pitying looks the workers there give me when they realize my date is again, and again, a no-show.”

He sighed, slowly invading your space. The arms that once felt like home to you, circling your waist, now felt foreign. You never imagined you’d get here but then again, who did?

Your hands clasped his button down before loosening its grip. Taking in one more whiff of his cedar-wood and mint perfume, you pushed him away. Stepping backwards from his presence and all he had to offer.

“It’s late. We’re both tired—”

He nervously smiled. Intertwining his fingers with yours and started to walk backwards to the direction of the bedroom. “Yeah, we can talk about it in the morning once you feel better.”

You wiggled your hand free.

“Actually, I think I have to go.”

Spencer paused, panic coloring his face. “That’s—that’s not what I meant, love. Anything but that. Please, please I love you and I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Spence. Me too.”

You slowly gathered your things, sans the chocolate cake left opened and untouched on the coffee table.

“Happy anniversary, I need space to think this all through—to think us through.”

He stood still, blocking your way, trying to wrap his head around the direction this was going to. The inevitable downfall of him and you. It was a car crash no one could no longer escape from.

“Please, let me fix this. I can do it, just—tell me how. Do you want me to limit my time spent with JJ? I-I can try, just please, don’t leave me.”

It wasn’t a promise, you noted. With how many broken promises there were between the span of your relationship, you wondered if that was a conscious choice of wording from him. It sounded hopeful, gleaming with oath even. But they were just words at the end of the day, packaged pretty for you to swallow.

“I need time, Spencer. I’m not breaking up with you, I just need space,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, wet from tears. “Can you give me that, love?”

He choked a sob.

“Promise me you’ll be back. Promise me.”

You tightly smiled, making your way back to the door. The unanswered plea hanging in the air like a blade, waiting to slash down between you—waiting to sever the connection that was once shiny and new.

Shakily removing the spare key of the apartment from your chain, you chanced one last look at his hunched form—sobs emitting from his sweet lips and acid rain spilling down his cherub cheeks, regretting that this might be your last memory of Spencer Reid.

You didn’t know if you’d be back.

If the thought of being second place will ever go away.

But the sinking feeling in your gut tells you the truth—that this is it.

This is final.

This is the end.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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silknspice · 20 days ago

Text

STICKY SITUATION

⎯ ୨୧ pairings: fake dating! vi x reader

⎯ ୨୧ content: mentions of alcohol, college au, lying, swearing, fake dating tropes used, lowercase intended, not proofread, wc 3.5k

“no telling anyone, i’ll be coming to all of your hockey games and after parties, and absolutely no tongue when kissing.”

you looked up at vi for reassurance after reciting the pink-written “rules” paper in front of you. the pinkette hummed, muscular and defined arms moving from their position draped over the top of the couch to her manspread knees as she shifted to lean slightly forward.

caitlyn kiramman and violet lane were officially over. it was assumed to be a mutual breakup that both parties would grieve on for the appropriate amount of time, but the soft launch the pinkett awoke to on caitlyn’s story the next morning spoke otherwise. maddie nolen. getting with the woman she told vi “not to worry about” was low, all vi could do was go lower.

and so she enlisted you. stunning, charming, intelligent, an all-rounder. the way caitlyn clung onto her ex-lover for dear life when you were around, as if vi were a mere moth and you were light. if anyone would give the “mongoose”, as vi called her, a run for her money, it’d be you.

“it’s a solid contract, for now.” she agreed. her eyes lingered on yours for a moment before flickering to her dorm window, the absence of light prompting her to lean back once more and speak. “it’s late, y’know. why don’t you stay the night?”

you paused on your way to stand before finishing the movement. “charming, really, but you don’t have to offer that, vi. i’ll walk back to my building. thanks thoug-” the girl drowned out your words with her reassuring ones.

“stay,” she simply insisted, backtracking as a beat passed and she had yet to explain. “it’d look good for the deal, y’know? besides.. we have some details to solidify.” as she finished speaking she lifted a hand and waved you over with only two fingers.

you set your bag back down and scoffed at the action. “i’m not a dog.” your feisty claim was cancelled out by the way you followed her command like a puppy.

you sat on the couch next to violet. closer than usual, but still too far for her liking. the hockey player rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk crossing her face. “not there, honey.” you furrowed your brows, looking around to see what could possibly be wrong with your arrangement. “then where am i supposed to sit?”

vi’s hint of a grin attempted to stay hidden, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she leaned over and grabbed your hips to flip you to straddle her lap on the couch.

“where it’s easiest for me to give you a hickey.”

you laughed, shaking your head and using your arms to lean back from vi’s chest. at the sound of silence in the room your smile dropped, staring at the girl eyeing you expectantly.

“you’re serious?” you asked louder than intended, mouth agape as the girl moved her hands to rest at your hips. “people won’t believe we’re a couple just because we said so,” she started. “especially not caitlyn, she’s too smart..” you added, beginning to understand her perspective.

“exactly,” she whispered, leaning in. “b’sides, we need to practice.”

vi leaned in, caressing the back of your head to hold you closer as she latched onto the side of your neck. she placed a gentle kiss before sucking a bit harder. you hummed as she slid a hand up to hold your hair before detaching from your neck with a pop.

“there.” she spoke softly, eyeing the red and purple love bite forming. “perfect."

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“perfect,” you smiled, picking up the letterman jacket vi placed in front of your position on the bed. “violence” was written on the back rather than her last name. clad in nothing but a t shirt and shorts as pajamas, you slid the jacket on to see how it fit. as you adjusted it and fixed your hair, vi walked up to her bed and held up her phone.

“smile,” she spoke quickly, snapping a photo of your soft smile and slightly confused eyes.

“what was that for?” you muttered, watching vi’s frame as she sat next to you and turned her screen.

already posted on vi’s snap story was a photo of you, sat on her bed, legs appearing bare as the girl’s letterman and oversized tee covered your shorts. the text on the screen read “post ‘workout’”.

“vi!” you sputtered, letting out a gentle laugh as you hit her shoulder and earned a playful grin from the girl. “hey- now we’re on the map.” the pinkett reassured you with a smug look as she opened the various messages responding to the story.

‘ITS NINE IN THE MORNINGG’ ‘crazy work’

you felt the girl’s gaze on you as you watched the reactions roll in with an amused smile. fellow classmates praising vi for ‘making a move’, saying how cute you two look together, even claiming to have ‘known this would happen all along’. for a moment, you let yourself forget it was all pretend.

a veiny hand placed itself on your thigh, making you flinch at the sudden contact. you looked to violet, eyes locking in the moment before ridding of the tension.

“see that? we need’a get rid of that.” she grinned.

you scoffed, flicking her hand off of you as you stood and rid yourself of the thick letterman. “nothing in the contract says you need to grope me,” you teased, hands on your hips as you turned to pick a shirt from vi’s messily folded space.

“gro- what?” she scoffed, caught off guard as she attempted to defend herself. “nobody’s gonna believe we’re a couple if you jump every time I lay a hand on you!” the girl huffed, her gaze turning every which way before leaning back on her forearms.

you only hummed as she continued to talk, turning with your back to her as you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head.

vi‘s words died in her throat, eyes widening at the line of your back. your smooth skin and pearly smile blinded her as you turned your head, picking up one of her shirts.

“what? nobody's gonna believe we're a couple if you choke up when you see my body." your cocky smile filled your face as you turned away from the girl.

"by the way, you're drooling."

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“ew, you fucking drooled!” jinx’s loud laugh drowned out the room as she scolded her boyfriend, despite the roaring party atmosphere. all throughout the frat house was a crowd of students looking to get wasted, heaps of alcohol, and bad decisions waiting to happen.

“i did not!” ekko defended himself, wiping away any possible evidence from his lips. you giggled at the two and leaned into the strong arm wrapped around your waist. after a few days of casual pda across campus to keep up the act, vi was finally able to touch you without you scolding her about ‘the contract’ or making a gasp that she found adorable.

she figured an arm wrapped around your torso was appropriate after the third guy in a row came up to you and asked to dance. you figured this was a good way to warn people off so that she didn’t threaten anyone else and get jayce to ban them from the frat.

“alright, another! i wanna be moving out there tonight,” jinx exclaimed, picking up a liquor, pouring two shots, and stopping over the third glass. you had already opted out on alcohol, so the blue haired girl’s gaze trailed to her sister. “vi? you pregnant or something? haven’t touched a glass yet. i’m worried.” the girl teased, tilting her head.

“ha ha,” vi rolled her eyes playfully, her grip on you becoming present once more as she spoke. “can’t. i’m drivin’ honey home tonight.” the younger girl fake gagged, downing her shot with her boyfriend following in suit. as the couple continued their antics, vi leaned into you. the space between you thinned as you grew to feel her soft exhales on the back of your neck. “look to your left, at the end of the couch.” her words were hushed to a sneaky whisper that kissed your ears as she kept your body warm with her proximity.

you obeyed, holding back a smile as you peeked to your left. a girl, decorated in blue locs, was staring back at you with stars in her eyes. she blew you a kiss that was mentally intercepted by vi with a scoff. “more competition.” you teased, turning your head to face hers.

“y’know, if i’d known you attract this much attention-” you cut her words off, bringing your hand up to fix a pink strand of hair that’d fallen in front of her face.

“you’d have what? chosen another girl to torture with your silly ex drama?” you hummed.

the pinkett snickered, cocky smile painting her face as her grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “not a chance.”

the moment between you fell silent and soft despite the roaring music surrounding before jayce’s smiling face filled your vision. “evening lovebirds,” the man grinned, taking a shot from the jinx’s hands and downing it while she groaned with anger. vi smiled, thumb tracing patterns absentmindedly along your hip. “shouldn’t you be losing a game of beer pong right about now?” she teased her friend.

“hah, no.” the sarcastic response made you giggle, fanning your face gently with one hand as the room’s air only became stiffer at the arrival of more guests. “mel and i are hitting up the hot tub with some.. other guests.” he lifted another shot glass, this time one that powder poured for him.

getting some fresh air sounded so good right now.

vi hummed while letting her hand slide off of your waist, her touch just grazing over your lower back before sticking her fist in the pocket of her baggy jeans. without speaking, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in question.

“yes please.” you begged, already handing your phone to jinx to watch over. most likely a decision you and your phone storage will regret later, but that was a future problem. jayce let out a chuckle, flashing his pearly whites before setting his last shot glass down and waving you and vi to follow.

your hands intertwined, jayce leading you who’s hands embraced both his and vi’s. the man pulled you both through the drunken community and let go to exit through the decorated doorway. the colorful lighting dimmed and was replaced by the blue hue of the pool and light from the night stars. jayce found mel’s gaze from across the space, a grin growing on the frat member’s mouth. he hastily removed his shirt and shorts, tossing them onto a table by the poolside. “just join us when you’re ready!” he rushed out, jogging over to his lover.

vi let out a sharp “hah”, muttering something about talis being “pussy whipped”. you only smiled, turning to the side as you fixed your arms across your torso and lifted the cropped top over your head. vi’s playful mutters died in her throat, and a soft “oh” was born. that ‘stripping practice’ wasn’t much help.

she hoped and prayed you’d suggest giving it another try.

two sets of clothes fell, every fabric hitting the floor adding to the heavy pile of tension, one too complex and thick to cut with a knife. the two of you hummed, taking each other in as your gazes travelled up and down with heavy lidded eyes.

rather than a knife, jayce’s call to you from across the landscape successfully dissipated all conflicting and curious thoughts. momentarily. “yo, what are you waiting for!”

the pinkette’s lips curled into a smile, her arm finding its resting spot around your waist. you exchanged no words as your feet moved with purpose, anticipating the feeling of the steamy water that would soon encase and soothe your body for the time being.

or not.

“violet?”

it wasn’t your mouth that spewed the name. you radiate love, the way in which you called out vi’s name warmed her and provided an indescribable feeling. it was said cold, surprised, and almost with distaste.

“caitlyn.” vi’s response was equally distant, a hint of shock at the end. the newfound emotion quickly switched to anger as she turned to the man looking like a deer in headlights. “jayce..” her voice was low, a warning.

wide eyes flickered between the past lovers before swaying to his immediate left. “mel?” he called for help, the woman only laughing as she relaxed into the warm water. “you’re on your own.”

the ginger girl at caitlyn’s side looped an arm around her bicep, squeezing gently to grab her attention. “let’s go, yeah?” she tried, but the woman didn’t budge.

you scoffed, a snarky remark on it’s way to sneak past your lips when jayce interrupted. “hey- okay wait wait!” he started, gaze travelling between the girls. “i know how tense everything is right now, but i care about both of you. i hate having to choose sides or run back and forth to be with you guys. can you at least try to be civil tonight?”

the loudest silence fell upon the group, you and maddie not daring to make a face until your lover– or faux one decided.

“fine.”

the night progressed as jayce dreamed. vi sat with you on her lap, your skin plush against one of her thighs, her arms wrapped around your waist as the water threatened to take you away. she suggested it was the “easiest position to whisper in your ear discreetly”. you were on top of her before she thought of the explanation. maddie and caitlyn sat directly across the hot tub, the ginger holding onto one of the bluenette’s biceps in hopes of calming the annoyed look that covered her face. mel and jayce, ever the mediators, carried the tense conversation to the best of their abilities.

after a draining thirty minutes of passive aggressive disses, everyone nodding and pretending to understand jayce’s technological talks, and you standing your ground during an intense staring contest with maddie, you’d had enough.

“oh it was disastrous. then of course i had to miss a couple days as i was ill with a cold–” caitlyn’s story was drowned out as you spoke up with a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache.

“really?” you tilted your head. “i heard you got mono after a party,” you hummed, voice laced with fake concern. you had no clue if the claims were true, you were just tired of her talking.

the bluenette’s eyes widened only slightly, her mouth slightly agape. maddie turned her head, a brow gently furrowing in suspicious confusion. “but.. i didn’t have-”

“well that’s what happens when you’re freed from a past situation that was unskilled in such acts.” caitlyn spoke over the girl. her gaze flickered over to vi and back to jayce who was desperately praying to change the topic. you bit your tongue with a small scoff under your breath, vi’s muscular arms tensed their grip around you subconsciously before relaxing at the thought of an idea.

“you wanna crash this shit?” vi whispered, words kissing your ear with her lips just inches away. you nodded your head with desperate eyes.

she tapped on your leg below the water, making you turn your head and torso ever so slightly towards her. without warning, her lips crashed into yours, arms adjusting their position to hold your waist. “keep going,” she whispered between one of the many kisses. your hands trailed up to tangle in her hair, gently gripping as you felt the pinkette softly bite on your bottom lip. your mouth opened just enough from shock that the muscular girl could slide her tongue in, allowing it to get tangled with and slide against yours.

fuck.

you allowed all of it to happen. the way her hands slid up and down your side, the way her lips encased and warmed yours, the way her tongue explored every inch of your mouth, the way mel and jayce noticed in shock and amusement, and the way caitlyn and maddie looked as though they’d explode within the next second.

you did anything but stop, hardly listening as caitlyn scoffed, letting out an “unbelievable” as her and maddie climbed out of the hot tub and stormed off. it wasn’t until mel questioned “was this display for us or them?” that you pulled yourself from vi with a cheeky smile. you didn’t miss the way she followed after your lips.

the pinkette flashed that infamous smirk, apologizing to mel and jayce with a laugh before leaning in one last time to whisper in your ear, “good job, honey.”

your heart raced at the comment, but it didn’t stop you from pushing the girl back with an almost-serious expression on your face. “you broke the contract!” you exclaimed, pressing an accusatory finger to her chest.

it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, like you didn’t slide your tongue along hers as she claimed your mouth.

it was the fact that every time you moved further in this fake affair, you grew more worried. the fact that all of your firsts with her would be fake tugged on your heart strings. and when the drama boils over, what would happen between the two of you? in your mind, as your tongues entangled, so did your hearts.

vi choked on her words, searching for an explanation. why did she do that again? she couldn’t help herself. not good enough. oh, right. “i told you! couples-”

“contract?”

the two of you froze, turning back to jayce and mel who eyed you suspiciously.

fuck.

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“fuck,”

jinx huffed out under her breath, barely audible with the loud bundle of students in the surrounding stands. “it smudged again!” the girl whined, looking into the camera of her phone as she attempted to fix a line of eye black on her face. mel chuckled, muttering a “give me that,” as she held the girl’s face and evened out the line with a tissue.

it was nearing the end of the second intermission, with your school and the neighboring university tied. the three of you had spent two hours picking out the best bottoms to match your lovers’ jerseys that covered your body, tying the perfect blue and white ribbons in your hair, and decorating yourselves with body paint. jinx, apart from the messy lines on her cheekbones, painted little blue doodles on her legs. mel simply painted jayce’s number on her cheek. you drew two pink lines under your eyes, along with vi’s name perfectly placed on the front of your thigh.

a loud whistle blew seconds before the players skated back on the ice, fans cheering and clapping as they anticipated a win for their respective team. you only cared about finding the player with the intimidating name plastered on their back: “violence”.

the game flashed before your eyes, screaming and squealing along with the girls whenever one of your companions got the puck. 6-6. 6-7. 7-7. excitement and anticipation in the atmosphere only rose as the teams skated back and forth across the ice.

the anticipation distracted you. distracted you from your conflicting feelings, vi’s curious actions, the fact that you didn’t have to be dressed like this as caitlyn nor maddie were present, the worry of this deal coming to an end, the terrible fact that you were worried, and the terrifying idea of telling her how you really felt once the game came to an end.

7-7. 7-8. 7-9. time!

the stands erupted into cheers as ekko slammed the winning shot. powder jumped up and down while you and mel laughed at the girl’s glee before cheering along with her.

“they usually take a minute, showers and all.” mel informed you as you waited for the players to exit the locker room. the two girls found a spot on a bench while you paced back and forth. it’s fine. it’s fine. does she really need to know?

“honey?”

the sweet voice startled you, prompting you to turn, the fast-moving pink haired girl still clad in her uniform filling your view. “vi?” you smiled, only taking two steps before the girl reached you. “what’s– huh?” you choked on your words as the girl wrapped a hand around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face.

“have t’ do this before the adrenaline wears off,” she muttered with determination and a haze in her eyes. before you could respond, she leaned in, lips connecting like puzzle pieces. the kiss wasn’t rough or showy like the others, it was needy and real. she kept you in a trance, minds, bodies, and mouths connected until powder’s complaints pulled you out. “jeez, breathe!”

the girl’s annoyance caused you to giggle, allowing you to feel vi’s smile against your lips before pulling back.

her face, only inches away, sent a numbing and fuzzy feeling through your brain and body. the look in her eyes as she soaked in every detail from your puffy lips to wide and love-struck orbs had you all but melting.

oh.

©silknspice

#writing ⋆˚୨୧｡#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane imagines #league of legends #vi arcane #vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi fanfic #ekko arcane #jayce talis #arcane drabbles #arcane headcanon #jinx #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #arcane fanfic

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augiewrites · 9 months ago

Text

"valley reverie" - sebastian

summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue

pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer

word count: 2.5K

a/n: this may be my magnum opus

The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.

He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his hand. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.

Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.

He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.

Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.

He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.

As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.

Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.

“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”

Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”

The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.

“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.

“Better than where I was.”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.

Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.

_________________________________________

Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.

He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.

“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”

The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.

He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.

The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”

“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.

“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.

“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________

Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.

“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”

He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”

They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”

A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”

“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”

“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”

“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”

Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.

“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”

He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.

He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________

The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.

“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.

Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.

He blew a puff of smoke in their face.

The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.

They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.

“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.

“Well I am very likable.”

Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________

Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.

They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.

It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.

The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.

He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.

“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”

The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.

“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.

The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”

It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________

Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.

He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.

It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.

“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.

The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”

He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”

The farmer laughed.

“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.

“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”

“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________

Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them.

They had all the time in the world.

The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

A beat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.

The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.

The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.

“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.

“I am.”

The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”

“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”

A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________

The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.

They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.

They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.

“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”

“Good morning to you too.”

The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.

They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”

“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”

They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”

He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.

He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.

“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.

“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

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